Chapter 19

Gramps seemed interested in the cleaning potion Atraeya demonstrated after dinner. She thought to start with that, hoping it would lessen the lecture about adopting a crow as a familiar. She was not so lucky. Instead, it earned her a lecture and half, all of which went in one ear and out the other. Something about painting a target on her back. She was already being as careful as she could, so gramps’ lecture felt more like useless rambling. Still, she was back at the cottage as soon as she finished her morning chores.

Atraeya cracked the front door open, and carefully peeked inside. Silence. Her heart dropped for a moment, wondering if her potion had somehow killed the bird instead, and she rushed inside. The crow, now dubbed Blackie for lack of any better options, cawed from somewhere above her and came flying towards her shoulder. It was alive, and its wing had fully healed overnight.

Atraeya smiled, and held up her hand for it, where she could inspect it better. Its feathers shone more vividly than before, and it seemed to have a bit of a growth spurt, though still smaller than average. Its eye didn’t regenerate, but the hole closed up, and feathers grew a smidge to cover the scar. She wasn’t expecting a brand-new eye, but she was glad her potion gave it the extra oomph.

She nodded to herself. Her health potion worked perfectly. Sensing her feelings, the crow stretched out excitedly, and cawed at her. She laughed and pet it. “Yes, you’re all healed now! Does that mean you’ll be leaving?” Atraeya asked with a hint of sadness in her voice.

It tilted its head.

“Well, if you’ll allow it, I’d like to make you my familiar. I’m… not sure what that means exactly, but all witches have one.” She stroked its head while she spoke. It’s one eye closed in pure bliss, and when she stopped, shook itself, and flew to the cauldron, where the health potion still sat. She had run out in such a rush to get home before dark she never bottled it up or even covered it. She peered inside. It looked like the same amount?

Atraeya sighed and poured the leftover potion into one of the clay jugs, then got to work finding the potion to turn an animal into a familiar. The recipe needed only three things. A handful of the animal’s favored food, grains from the home, and either a witch’s blood or saliva. The book recommended blood, due to how much saliva would be needed, in comparison to blood. Additionally, the manaprint required the ingredients to be high in Mind, but also a bit of Soul. That would make things more complicated. All the previous potions she made only had one manaprint requirement.

Best get to work.

The crow had not eaten all the food they had left the night before. She thought she could pick out any that could fit the potion requirements but no suck luck. Most of them were strong in Body. Unless it purposely picked out all the ones she would need? No. That would be too much, even for a smart bird.

Atraeya grabbed her basket and went out in search of ingredients, leaving Blackie inside for fear of it escaping. It took her almost the entire morning to find the right manaprint of just the bird food. The seeds and nuts were small, so she had to touch each one individually. She was grumbling to herself by the end of it. If manaprint wasn’t required to make a potion, she was sure she would have made a dozen potions by now. If she had to hear complaints from clients after going through all this trouble, she would snap too.

At least the grain from home part was easier. She needed only a handful, and could just mix her hand in the rice jar until she felt the manaprint matched what she needed. Atraeya nabbed their knife before heading back to the cottage.

She was used to the process by now. Boil the water, ready the ingredients. The potion didn’t call for any of these ingredients to be crushed, so as soon as it was hot enough, she tossed in all ingredients. Then mix with her wand while giving it mana. Atraeya nodded in satisfaction once the potion turned into a smooth, vibrant green.

Blackie watched intently as she grabbed the bowl it’s water was in and dipped it in the cauldron. When she placed the bowl back in the table, soaking it entirely, it perched on the edge and began to drink.

The effect was instant, though faint. She felt the bird as almost a part of herself. The more it drank, the more confident she became of it. Like an extra arm, only it was doing what it wanted and she couldn’t control it. She crouched beside the table, watching it drink and drink. Mana began to emanate from it, and she could get the feeling it was… excited? And curious of her, the same she was of it.

“Do you have a name?” she asked, testing the waters.

It froze, surprised by her words. Or maybe because it had understood her? It tilted it’s head and cawed. It was confused, but could not reply to her in a way she understood. Atraeya sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry. I still don’t understand you…” She pointed to the bowl again, now half empty. “Drink some more.”

It did so, to her surprise. She stared, mouth agape. It looked back to her and laughed in its bird way, flapping its wings in amusement. Maybe it did understand her a little better.

“How would you like to study potion making? Like the one you’re drinking?”

It tilted it’s head, thinking. For a moment, she thought it didn’t understand. The only emotion that came from it was confusion. Then it understood, and began to flap its wings again excitedly. It flew around the room, cawing loudly until it landed on her shoulder.

Atraeya giggled at its eagerness, and until the day of the hunt that was exactly what she did. They both wandered the forest, with her pointing out various plants and telling Blackie the name for it. As well as doing her best to teach it about manaprints. She got the feeling it could tell the difference between the three attributes as long as the highest attribute was strong enough.

She realized by now why every witch had a familiar. If they were all like this, finding ingredients would be a lot easier, and less time-consuming.

Toward the tail end of the week, it had become clear enough to her that the potion she had dumped in their garden had worked. The vegetables had sprouted far bushier, and much more vibrant than any other garden. The soil was a rich, dark brown, and there were even fewer weeds to pull in the morning. Even compared to Mrs. Mira’s garden, or the community farms where the potion had also been dumped.

She knew it was the work of the potion, but could anyone else notice the difference? No one had mentioned anything, not even gramps, who Atraeya was sure would give her an “I told you so” speech. So she kept quiet about it, and continued to work it as normal. This, as well as her magical broom, magical scythe, and cleaning potion, meant her chores were done before the sun was fully in the sky.

If magic was so convenient, why did they hate it so much? It made no sense to her.

Atraeya woke up the day of the hunt with her whole body buzzing with excitement. Blackie had taken to building a nest on the roof, once she felt confident they had bonded enough that it won’t just fly away. This morning it glided in through the window, and perched on the fireplace above her head, patiently waiting for her to bring out its food. She had kept a jar of nuts, seeds, and berries to give it every morning after she got dressed.

Outside was bright a clear, with the occasional wind. Outside was bustling with activity rare for so early, and ever rarer for being near the outskirts of the village. She peeked down the river, towards the bridge, where plenty of folks she had never seen before were carrying tents, supplies, and weapons across towards the forest. It was a treat for the eyes. Nothing ever seemed to happen here, and now there was more fanfare than she knew what to do with.

Gramps popped up beside her, woodworking tools in hand. “I’ll be on standby, in case something breaks. Come along now.” He eyes the bird as it landed on her shoulder, but otherwise said nothing. The bird had flipped his shirt, hid his tools, poked him all manner of places. Gramps had given up shooing it away after the fifth time it laughed at him.

They walked along the river, picking up more people as they got closer. Once they crossed the bridge, the crowd split up, showing off a small encampment. Tents lined up in rows, most occupied with preparing for the hunt.

They passed by a blacksmith and his apprentices sharpening the points of boar spears, and Fletchers with their arrows. A kennel master talked with some noble looking person, their hounds barking at all the excitement. A tent with beds were at the ready, with Marrint center to a group of people. Atraeya nodded to herself, remembering how chaotic the sounder was that one night. A doctor was necessary today, and she briefly regretted she didn’t bring her jug of healing potion.

One particularly large tent held Lady Brockrote, and a number of nobles and servants at the ready. They hunched over a table, laying their plans for the day. Some seemed to be arguing with each other, until Lady Brockrote slammed her hand on the table, and they all fell silent.

Gramps didn’t stop, and near the back of the rows was a tent with what she assumed was the woodworking tent. They were working on multiple wooden carts. He noticed her confusion. “Boars are heavy, and with a hunting party this big, they’ll likely go for most of the sounder. We’ll need multiple carts for each noble hunting today, since they’re slow and heavy with boars on them.”

Atraeya nodded in understanding, but secretly an idea came to her. This was precisely her area of expertise. All she needed was a leaf, and she could turn it into a feather charm to put on all the carts. They would be lighter, making them easier and quicker to use. And as a bonus, a leaf was inconspicuous. As long as they didn’t brush it off, that is.

Quickly she looked around for any sort of leaf. A fallen branch, a bush, a stray fallen leaf from the previous autumn. She did spot a bush, a few tents away. Just as she was about to dart toward it, Gramps grabbed her by the collar. “Where are you goin’? You got work to do.”

“Me?” she gasped.

“Yes, you. You and the other kids,” he pointed with his other hand at Sebena running back and forth as a messenger. Then she noticed Poe and Menor hauling a large crate into a tent with a makeshift kitchen.

As if on cue, one of the other woodworkers, presumably gramps’ co-worker, thrust a bundle of sticks into her arms. “There ya go. Take that to the blacksmith.”

She looked at gramps, completely offended. Instead of helping her, he made a shooing motion. “If you get the attention of a noble and run some chores for them, they’ll usually pay a few coins. I recall you wanted a glass vial?”

Atraeya shut her open mouth at once and looked around. There was one merchant here, happily shouting off all her wares. She did want a glass vial. With a reluctant sigh, she got to work. She took the sticks, which were actually spear handles, to the blacksmith. Then the blacksmith asked her to take the arrowheads to the Fletcher. Then the Fletcher asked her to take then arrows to a noble, who then asked for his horseshoes, which she earned some coin for. This continued on for most of the morning, until a horn blew.

She turned to gramps. “The hunt is starting, look.” He pointed towards the tree line, where the nobles were beginning to line up on horseback. The hounds were in front, sitting with their tags wagging faster than the wind. The kennel master watched them all carefully, ensuring no one was out of line. Lady Brockrote sat in the center on her horse, bow in one hand. After a few minutes of last minute checks, another horn blew, and they all bolted into the forest. The dogs went first, nose to the ground, then the people, who kept up as best they could.